


Dress Rehearsal

by Fairleigh



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Dress Up, Dry Orgasm, Extremely Underage, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Too Young to Truly Consent, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: Pets are appreciated. Laurent wants to be appreciated, too. So Laurent sneaks into his uncle's private chambers and dresses himself up as a pet ...
Relationships: Laurent/Regent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Dress Rehearsal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandmaidenOfHorror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandmaidenOfHorror/gifts).



Prince Laurent of Vere was nine years old, and he did not feel appreciated.

His brother Auguste, twelve years his elder, was appreciated, and that was because Auguste was heir apparent to the throne. Laurent, on the other hand, was merely the second-born son, Vere’s official spare heir. And no matter how often Auguste insisted otherwise, Laurent knew he wasn’t as important as Auguste to their parents the king and queen. No, not really. Their attentions—and their affections—were focussed elsewhere. With Auguste.

Even _pets_ got more attention than Laurent. Pets! Laurent regarded their pretty, pampered bodies with near-crippling envy. _Pets_ , he’d only lately come to realise, wanted for neither attention nor affection; in fact, they received both from their masters constantly. Good pets were a matter of honour to their masters, you see, and this meant that good pets were appreciated. Good pets were _loved_.

‘I would make a good pet,’ said Laurent to his reflection in the looking glass. ‘I _would_.’

He’d stolen into his uncle’s private chambers because his uncle kept pets the same age and approximate size as Laurent, and Laurent knew that their excess finery, cast aside so casually here and there on the floor, at the foot of the bed, over the ledge of the bathing pool, would also fit him. And sure enough: Those sheer, filmy silks fit him perfectly, and the gold jewellery and indigo blue gems complemented his fair colouring beautifully. He hadn’t even tried applying paint to his face yet, and already he looked—

‘Nephew.’

Laurent whirled around to face his uncle. His cheeks heated with instant embarrassment. He had entered without permission, and he’d been caught. Now he would be chastised, punished for his audacity. ‘Please forgive me, uncle, I—’

‘How exquisite you look,’ said his uncle. ‘My meek, shy nephew—I would never have suspected. Why, you are more exquisite than the finest of my pets.’

Laurent blushed even more deeply … but for a rather different reason. Yes, he knew it. He would make a good pet, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?! He’d be appreciated as a pet. Look how his uncle’s gaze was fixed upon him; his uncle was taking notice of Laurent the pet when he had never before taken notice of Laurent the prince.

Laurent would make a good pet. Laurent the pet rose from where he’d been seated in front of the looking glass and stepped slowly toward his uncle.

Well, actually, he sashayed. Chest out, hips swaying. The sly, seductive way he’d seen pets do it when they wanted their master’s attention—their master’s _affection_. He pressed his small body against to his uncle’s bigger one, palms flat against his broad chest, and his uncle’s arms came up to wrap themselves around Laurent. An embrace. His uncle hardly ever hugged him. The realisation that he was doing so now, and under such … extraordinary … awkward … circumstances, pierced Laurent’s heart with an arrow-sharp pain.

‘Would you like to play at being my pet for a little while, Laurent?’ asked his uncle. ‘Surely this little dress up session of yours should not go to waste?’

‘Yes.’ The whispered affirmation left Laurent’s lips like a sigh. Yes, he told himself inwardly, this was what he wanted. To be appreciated.

He offered to help his uncle undress, but his uncle would not let Laurent so much as touch his tunic laces, let alone handle the obvious bulge in his trousers. Instead, he swept Laurent into his arms, carried him to bed, and laid him down in a luxurious nest of soft, thick eiderdown pillows.

His uncle did not try to kiss him on the lips, but he did sweep the silken garb aside and press a kiss to his belly. The beard made it ticklish, and Laurent’s skin crawled as he bit back a childish giggle. He was a pet; he was supposed to be serious in his show of submission! His uncle did not relent however, and soon enough, Laurent was shaking silently with laughter, fist in his mouth to prevent the stray cackle from escaping.

Eventually, thankfully, his uncle seemed to decide he’d had enough of the tickle torment, and his attentions began moving lower. Laurent stiffened with anticipation, craning his neck, wanting to see. He was still bare as a babe down there, milk white and tender. His prick was small; his balls high and smooth. He could become erect with ease, he knew—and he was already more than half-hard—but his foreskin was immobile and did not yet retract.

Fortunately, his uncle did not seem to mind. He laid a wet, sucking kiss on the crinkled tip of Laurent’s foreskin, and then he took the entire length of Laurent’s prick into his mouth.

‘O-o-o-ohhh …!’ Laurent gasped for air like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Because, truthfully, it had been. His boyish prick wasn’t even a mouthful for his uncle, and his uncle rolled the whole organ around in his mouth, stroking the shaft with the flat of his velvet tongue. Laurent felt a heat and a tension building within him that he’d never felt before, and his hips began to undulate of their own accord, back and forth, back and forth, seeking the heat of his uncle’s mouth, seeking more, more, _more_ , and his uncle seemed eager to encourage the motion, placing one broad, calloused hand on Laurent’s hips as he took him even deeper, crushed himself against Laurent’s flesh—

Something, _something_ was happening to him, and it was so big, so uncontrollable, like the most desperate urge to wee—Laurent tried to warn his uncle, to push him away before it was too late, but his uncle only seemed encouraged, humming pleasantly, and the sensation was so intense, too intense—

‘N-no, I’m going to—!’

He was floating, falling. Heavenly rapture. Laurent’s vision whited out.

When he finally returned to consciousness, his first thought was to check that he hadn’t soiled himself. But there was no wee to speak of, hardly any fluid at all. Just a tiny puddle of clear, sticky fluid atop his belly, one glistening string still hanging from the tip of his prick. So he _had_ made a good pet. Just as he’d known he would.

His uncle, meanwhile, was on his knees beside Laurent and stroking himself frantically. His foreskin was mobile, unlike Laurent’s, and it slid up and down as he worked, the fiercely red, exposed head of his prick squeezed through the tight ring of his fingers, once, twice—and then he began to ejaculate, adding his copious, creamy load to Laurent’s tiny clear one.

‘An excellent dress up session,’ noted his uncle after he’d got Laurent clean and back into his princely regalia. ‘Perhaps in future we can play again for real.’


End file.
